


I Shall Face God (and walk backwards into hell)

by Boldly_going_places



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Siblings, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, F/F, Gen, LGBT characters, More characters to be added, there's just so many
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:28:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21763000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boldly_going_places/pseuds/Boldly_going_places
Summary: 15 year old Mel Swan is about to get a whirlwind of action she was trying desperately to avoid. Estranged sister Bella moves back to town, gets involved with the reclusive vampire family, and Mel is left with an aneurysm worrying about her and trying to come up with excuses for poor dear Dad (oh, Bella went to visit mom, I thinks she's with friends, um...Bella is actually fake?). On top of this, Mel deals with some weird family history, and coming into her magic powers. How is she supposed to deal with this? Oh and Kirsty Hutchins just asked her to the Spring formal.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

It’s snowing when Bella gets here. Dad--his honored police chief Charlie Swan--wanted me to go with him to pick her up, but apparently sophomores get enough homework for me to use that as an excuse. I watch from my bedroom window as the police cruiser pulls in next to Billy Black’s old red truck. They got here a few minutes before Bella and Dad. 

Bella is pale, her dark hair covered by the hood of a purple jacket. She’s carrying a cactus--a reminder of Arizona sun probably. She looks up, and we meet eyes. I wave half-heartedly, putting my hand up then putting it back down when she keeps staring blankly at me. 

Bella had been living with Renee since Dad and she divorced. Renee was obsessive over Bella at that time, and Dad got to keep me with sole custody. I don’t think it was the best situation, but we don’t really talk about it. I only saw Bella up until she was thirteen and I was twelve. After that, she swore off Forks, Washington, I guess, and I swore off leaving the cozy little town just to see an estranged sister.

I go downstairs to greet her properly, but when I crack open the door, Dad has gotten into a conversation with Billy, and Bella is talking haltingly to Jake, his long hair up. I watch for a little bit, half in the house and half out of it (Jake trying (and failing) to flirt with Bella, who so far has been nothing but a brick wall) before Billy spots me, and waves me over. I wave back, put on the shoes closest to the door, and shuffle out to them.

“Hi,” I say, leaning down to give him a hug. He’s in a wheelchair from an accident when he was younger, before I was born. 

“It’s good to see you Mel,” he says. “You haven’t been around lately.” 

I shrug sheepishly. “School’s kicking my butt,” I lie. 

“Really? I thought you were the smart Swan?” Billy jostles my elbow and I smile, huffing out my nose. Bella and Jacob’s conversation dwindles, and we all stand there for a few seconds, looking at each other. “Are you going to come fishing this year?” he asks. 

I open my mouth and make a few gestures with my shoulders that say, _maybe but probably not, but maybe_. “I’ll try,” I finally say, strained. 

“We’d love to have you,” he says. I nod and smile and Dad slaps me on the back in a sporty kind of way, then clears his throat. “Well, thank you for the truck, Billy. I think this whole, uh...transition will be a lot easier with it.” 

“Anything to make Bella feel more at home,” he says, turning to her. She walks closer, backpack still over her shoulder, and stops next to Charlie.

“Thanks,” she says, voice flat. There’s bags under her eyes, and she hasn’t smiled once since being here. Not that I blame her. Forks isn’t exactly Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood. 

Billy and Jake say their goodbyes, and we help carry Bella’s bags into the house. Inside, the late afternoon light is dulled from the snow clouds and filtered by the semi-transparent curtains I helped Dad put up three months ago. 

Bella stands in the entryway, looking around while I lug her suitcases upstairs, into the room across the hall from mine. The stairway separates the rooms, and I’m grateful for it. Her room is pretty much how it was when she used to come here when we were both little--lilac walls, cute little bookshelf, same vanity. The bed doesn’t have a canopy anymore. Dad took it down when she was twelve, to try to convince her to stay. Wonder why he never did anything like that for me. 

When I get back downstairs, Bella and Dad are talking. 

“Mel won’t say anything about it, but I was hoping you’d be able to drive her to school,” he says. 

“Yeah, of course.” Her voice is tired, breathy almost. It’s weird to hear her talk after three years of not communicating with her at all. Almost like she grew up and like...went through puberty or something. 

“I don’t mind walking,” I say, coming around the corner into the living room. “I love the wet, gross, cold.”

Dad shakes his head. “You’re both going to the same place. Mine as well save some gas, right?” Dad pats Bella’s arm a few times, but she leans away, stuffing her hands farther into her pockets. I suck in my lips and hum so I won’t laugh. As much as I love the man, Dad is awful at showing affection. 

“I’m gonna unpack,” Bella says, and pushes past me to stomp up the stairs. 

I look around the room before meeting Dad’s eye--we exchange a look, before he laughs a little bit. “This will be quite the adjustment.” 

“I’m not that moody am I?” I ask. By the sound of chair squeaking loudly against the hardwood floor of Bella’s room, I guess I’m not. Thin walls. 

“Give her a break, Mel,” he says, lowering his voice. “She just got here.” 

“I know. I just don’t want her to get the wrong idea that I’m like...not spicy, y’know?” I say, making small jazz hands in front of me to show my spiciness.

He looks at me, his trademark Tired Dad Face on. “I’m not really sure what that means, and I’m not really sure I want to know what that means.”

“You’ll understand when you’re older,” I say and pat him on the arm once.

He shakes his head and looks down at his watch. “Ah, shoot. I gotta head back to the station.” He zips up his coat and gets his gun and holster from the safe. “Don’t harass your sister while I’m gone. And if she needs help with anything, please help her.”

“I’m very helpful,” I say, arms crossed and following him as he walks out the door. “I know where the alcohol is.” Enunciating alcohol very precisely. 

He turns around and gives me a stern look. “Don’t even joke, Mel.”

I throw my hands up. “Don’t worry about me. I’m all straightedge.” 

He drives away without another word and I wave him off dramatically, until his cruiser is completely out of view. The snow has gotten thick and wet. I go back inside, trying to close the door quietly behind me, having to pull hard for the latch to actually click. 

I don’t know whether to check on Bella or let her wallow in her misery alone. Knowing me, I’d be far more awkward trying to comfort her than leaving her alone, so I make myself a grilled bologna and cheese sandwich instead (I normally wouldn’t have bologna, but we ran out of ham last week, and Dad doesn’t have time to go to the grocery store, and I’m not riding my bike fifteen miles with a basket full of groceries).

She doesn’t come down for the rest of the night.

* * *

I wake up at two in the morning. The wind is howling across the roof and the rain splattering against the windows, but that’s not what wakes me. Bella is crying. 

Not that I can blame her. I went to summer camp, like, three years ago, and I cried almost every night of the two weeks I was there. In my half-awake state, I think about moving away from home for a permanent amount of time. I don’t like it, and I can’t imagine Bella does either. 

The better part of me wants to get up and tell her this. The morally corrupt part of me falls back asleep and wakes up to my blaring alarm at six o’clock the next morning, my hand fumbling on my bedside table to slam the snooze button. It falls off, onto the ground, still blaring, and I crawl down, half of my body still in my bed and half of it exposed to the biting morning air. 

“Fuuuuck,” I groan as I finally turn off the blasted alarm, already awake enough to pull myself out of my bed and off the ground. I look back at the nest of blankets I made, my eyes sinking shut, before I stumble and wake right back up. Who knew a twin bed could be so enticing. I rub the crusties out of my eyes, yawning so wide my jaw hurts. 

All my clothes are folded neatly in my wide set of drawers. My shirts are in the top drawer, then my pants, then my PJs and unmentionables are in the same drawer. I turn on the light on my dresser, then methodically pull open each drawer, carefully considering each selection. Well, I could wear my Of Maggots and Men t-shirt (an unfortunate decision to go see a local garage band) or my Shakespeare with sunglasses t-shirt (‘cause who doesn’t love some Billy Shakes) or any other t-shirt in my array of t-shirts. I close my eyes and grab one, knowing all the ratty ones have been sorted away in the pajama drawer. 

When I open my bedroom door for the shower, Bella’s door is closed, no light shining under it. It’s 6:20. I wonder how quickly she gets ready and consider that I may have to bike to school. It’s not new. I’ve been doing it since the beginning of the year. Some things are clearly too much to hope for. 

My bathroom routine is quick and simple. I get into the shower, body wash, face, pits, get out, dry and throw my clothes on. The mirror is foggy, and it’s only now that I realize maybe I should pick up some of my stuff from the sink considering there’s another person that’s going to use this bathroom. 

I grab as many of the things as I can--various masks, lotions, hair product, just stuff. It’s taking up most of the sink. Opening the door with my foot, I waddle out of there, glancing at Bella’s door to see light coming from under it and hearing her move around. I sigh, relieved.

No bike for me.

I run downstairs, pounding each step as I go just to make sure Dad is truly and well awake, not thinking about the fact that he had a really late shift last night until he pokes his head out of his room that runs adjacent to the kitchen and glares at me in all his half asleep glory. 

“Oh,” I say, sheepishly. “Sorry.” 

“Good morning,” he grumbles, before shutting his door again and sliding back to the arms of sleep. 

Getting my cereal quietly now, I hear Bella go into the bathroom upstairs. I find the differences on the back of the box and munch on my Crispy-O Flakes. The snow from last night has let up, and I can see how it’s turned to slush in the streets overnight. There’s a big puddle right at the end of the driveway that looks like a brown, crunchy slushie. I take another bite of my cereal hesitantly. 

Bella comes downstairs when I’m putting my bowl in the dishwasher. I look down at my outfit and over at hers. They’re not exactly the same, but we’re both wearing a t-shirt, a flannel, and jeans. She doesn’t notice, though.

“Good morning,” I say. 

She nods at me and doesn’t say anything. I watch her walk to the fridge and pull out a yogurt. We meet eyes and I look away quickly, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. I busy myself with getting my bag, shoving in my laptop and notebooks that are strewn over the coffee table in front of the TV. Spanish homework I was supposed to be doing--I was watching one of those psych talk shows instead, where they bring people with problems on. 

Bella walks through to the front door, asking, “Ready?” 

I nod and fling my back pack over my shoulder.

The drive to school is short (a lot shorter than biking), and when we get there, I hop right out. Bella sits in the drivers seat for a few minutes. I try not to stay in watch, not wanting to make a spectacle of her or anything, but it’s hard not to. 

Forks isn’t a big school--student body or property--and sometimes it can be hard to fit in, especially coming in fresh after the year already started. I should wait for her. 

Kirsty Hutchins waves to me. “Hey Mel.” She drives a 2001 Ford Focus that has a huge rust spot on it, and last time I was in it it smelled like weed covered up by way to much floral Febreze. And she looks _really_ good today.

“Hey,” I say, mouth dry, voice cracking over the word. I clear my throat. “Hey.” 

She stands next to me and looks where I’m looking, hands in the pockets of her jean jacket that has patches all over the back of it, meticulously placed. “Is that your sister?” she asks, gesturing with her chin (and her jaw kinda extends) to Bella’s red truck. 

I’m staring at her so hard it takes me a second to realize that she asked me a question. When she looks at me, eyebrows raised, I close my mouth and nod. “Uh, yeah, yeah, Bella,” I say dumbly. It feels like my tongue is huge and is slurring against the sides of my mouth. 

“Should I go say hi?” she asks. 

I look over to the truck. Bella is starting to get her stuff. “Oh, I don’t know. She might need a second,” I say, because I don’t want Kirsty Hutchins to walk away from me. 

“Hm,” Kirsty says then turns away. “I’ll say hi later, then. See ya.” I watch her walk away into the building, swallowing the lump in my throat. Kirsty Hutchins. She’s got this carefree kind of swagger that I can’t take my eyes off. 

When Bella knocks me in the shoulder walking by, I jerk out of my trance. She walks by me stiffly, looking out of place and uncomfortable. I have to jog a little bit to catch up, thumbs hooked under the straps of my bag, huffing and puffing. 

“You walk fast,” I say. “Do you know where the main office is?” 

“Yes,” Bella says tersely. 

“Okay.” I tug my bag up my back. We walk to the doors together. While she keeps walking to the office, I look to the direction of my looker, then say, hopefully loud enough for her to hear, “I’ll see you later then.” She doesn’t reply. 

I stand at the office for a few extra seconds, watching Mrs. Hyatt’s face turn from friendly to nosy the minute Bella properly introduces herself. I shake my head and continue on.

My locker is between Mike Newton’s and Jessica Stanley’s lockers. They’re a grade above me (Bella’s grade, I guess), and fairly down to earth. Mike plays basketball but is benched half the time and Jess is a lowkey feminist with a side of ditzy. I don’t see them that often, but they always say hi to me if we’re at the lockers at the same time, and Mike is friends with Kirsty, so I try to be around when he is. 

That being said, I got here abysmally early for Bella (7:30). I take my time looking at the stuff in my locker before going to biology. I have three textbooks and one normal book (for English). We don’t really use our biology book, but there’s nightly readings for civics and homework for algebra. They’re kind of beat up, even the civics book, which isn’t looking good for the accuracy of the facts in that guy. My eyes start to flutter down, and I lean heavily against my locker. 

A distorted voice says, “Uh, calling Ms. Swan to the office, calling Ms. Swan.” I stand up straight to see my friend Bethany with a her hands cupped over her mouth to distort her words. “No sleeping in the hallways Ms. Swan.” 

“Shut up,” I say, a yawn caught in my throat.

“Bro, you good?” she asks. 

“Yeah. Bella came in last night,” I say. 

Bethany squints her eyes, then says an elongated ‘oh’ in recognition. “No shit. Is she here?” She looks over each of her shoulders. 

“Not here here, but at the school, yeah,” I say. 

“How you doin’?” she asks. 

I shrug and we walk to bio together. “It was weird. She didn’t really talk at all, seemed pretty down. I don’t know. I get it, I guess.” 

“Well, if you just moved to a tiny, weird new town, I think you’d be quiet, too,” she says. 

“I belong in weird, tiny towns.”

Bethany gives me a look and sarcastically says, “Edgy.”

Biology is fun. It may be my propensity toward it, or that Mr. Banner is actually insane, but having that class at eight in the morning is invigorating. He has live rats in a huge cage at the front of the room and lets us hold them as long as we don’t tell anybody. He’s also not a physical sciences teacher, but sets the tables on fire sometimes for the fun of it. Today we were talking about plants and looking at onion skin under microscopes. 

“Alright, kids, what have we learned today?” he asks. 

“Don’t eat the test subjects,” Brad Hodgkins says, holding a water bottle to his mouth. 

“You ate--Jesus, Brad--well, yes, I guess that’s one thing that one of us has learned today. What about--” The bell cuts him off. “Ah, shoot. For homework write a reflection and summary about this, please! And hand in the sheets you filled out tomorrow, okay?” 

We all file out of the room, waving back to him or saying see you later. 

Alice Cullen is already in my civics when I get there. She’s got this purple dyed spiky hair and I wonder sometimes if she’s punk or punk and doesn’t know it. 

And fun fact: Alice Cullen is a vampire. I know this and she does not know that I know this. There’s nothing to fear from her--from any of the Cullens in fact--except that they cannot know that I know that they’re vampires. Because if they know that I know, then they’ll want to know how I know, and I’ll have to explain to them exactly who I am or...what I am.

I like to say I’m a witch. It’s more complicated than that, but I am essentially a witch. I do magic. 

Alice looks over at me from her spot across the room. I smile and wave. “Hi,” I say. 

“Hi,” she says, then goes back to her book. She’s pretty in a manic pixie dream girl kind of way, and she has a lot to say about the treatment of women throughout history. I like her. I wish we talked more. 

Lunch is always a reprieve. Bethany and I always sit together and usually Wesley joins us. Sometimes some other people will, but that’s our little cluster--me, Beth, and Wesley. 

I look around for Bella among the groups of people hunched over their meals at the round tables. When I spot her talking to Jess, I almost wave her over, but they sit together with Mike, Eric, and a few other people I don’t really know. 

“That’s her?” Bethany asks, voice low and looking over at their table. Wesley cranes to look over his shoulder. 

“I don’t see her,” he says, still looking around. I slap him on the shoulder.

“Way to be obvious dipshit,” Beth grumbles.

“I’ll introduce you. Stop being dumb.”

He pouts at us. 

I have a salami sandwich for lunch, with mustard, pickles, and lettuce. When I take it out, Bethany makes a face. “I don’t like that,” she says, holding up a forkful of her cafeteria salad in defense.

“Good thing you’re not eating it then, right?” I say, taking a huge bite. 

When the Cullens walk into the lunchroom, it’s something you can feel. It’s not quiet that overtakes the place, more a wash of cold, the nice kind that sends a slight shiver up through your body. I glance over to their corner of the lunch room. It’s entirely unintentional, like a gravitational force.

That’s what vampires do. The way the Cullens hunch in on themselves makes it very clear that it is not what they want to be happening. The “family” is made up of couples--Alice and Jasper, Emmet and Rosalie, Carlisle (Dr. Cullen, to those in his practice) and Esme. Edward is alone in this mix. Regardless of what I know, this is still as weird to me as it is to anybody else. 

I shake my head (to myself, of course) and turn back to my food. 

Wesley is still looking at them. “Do y’all think the tall one is hot?” he asks. 

Bethany makes a gagging sound, and I laugh. “I think they’re all alright,” I say, because it’s the truth (and because I know they can hear everything, and nobody would want to get on their bad side). 

“They’re pretty weird,” Bethany says and takes a mouthful of salad. “I don’t know if I’d call any of them hot.” 

“Okay, fine, alluring, then. I’m surprised one of them isn’t gay,” he says. “Y’know, statistically, at least one of them should be.” 

“I think they’re part of a cult,” Bethany says.

I snort. “Okay? I want to hear more.” 

“I don’t know, just a feeling. Like when somebody is evil you can just sense it. It’s like that,” she says. 

I shake my head. “Sure, bud.” 

Mid-chew, I catch Bella looking at them. I follow her gaze to Edward, the supposedly single one. She’s making eyes. I look away before she notices me looking. I don’t want to make her uncomfortable. I gulp down my food. 

* * *

The school day passes quickly after that. Rehearsals for the upcoming spring play haven’t started yet, so I pile into the car next to Bella. The windows fog up with our breath until the heater starts working. It’s not too bad out today--a low thirty--but I can imagine the streets freezing over, creating a nice sheen to slide on. Unwillingly I clench my jaw and look out the window. 

“How was your first day?” I ask Bella. 

She puts the truck in gear. “Good,” she says.

“I saw that you met Jess,” I say, pulling at a loose thread on my flannel. 

“Yeah,” she says. “She’s nice.” 

I nod. “What classes do you have?” I ask. 

“Um, English 11, Biology, PE, Trigonometry, and Art. Oh, and Government,” she says.

“Oh nice,” I say. I’m surprised she’s taking trig. She doesn’t really strike me as a hard math person--more like a probs and stats guy. “I’m taking pre-calc--do you think you’re gonna do Calc next year?” I ask, for something to talk about. 

“I don’t know,” she says. 

“Well, if you do, we’ll probably be in the same class, you know. That would be fun I think.” 

She nods, then after a few moments of silence asks, “Do you know the Cullens?”

I inhale sharper than I wanted to and clear my throat. “Um, not personally. I mean, when they moved here it was a pretty big deal, but they don’t really talk too much with other people. I don’t know, Dr. Cullen is nice. Why?” 

When she doesn’t say anything I look over. She’s blushing. “Just wondering,” she says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay listen...I love/hate Twilight. I'm exploiting it's potential. I'm glad you're here to do this with me. I'm changing a few rules, spicing it up a little, having a little fun, adding some gayness. My dear Mel is a witch, and any cringiness comes from the fact that she is fifteen years old, a babie. Also, witches/magic exist in this universe because I said so. Romance will happen eventually. I know where I want this to go, and more cullen and vampire stuff will happen soon! Thank you so much for reading, this a very self-indulgent piece so I'm glad if other people are having fun with it, too!


	2. The Cullens are Weird as Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mel sees some shady stuff at home, lunch buddies have some theories, and the Cullens are Maple Syrup Smugglers?

I wake up in the middle of the night. The wind is howling against the windows. A shiver crawls up my spine and my whole body shakes. The air is cold when I breath in. I blink, and I see shapes moving rapidly across a field. My heart stutters. 

* * *

Kirsty Hutchins is staring at me from across the lunch room. She’s sitting with some of the basketball team people. I’m staring down at my food. Dad tried to make me a sandwich the night before, but the jelly saturated the bread. I cannot look up--if I do, she’ll see me looking, and I’ll see her looking, and then she’ll laugh at me, or think I’m weird. My face is hot, so I try to think about dogs or something. 

When a lunch tray clatters onto the table next to me, I jump. “Oh,” I say, keeping my eyes firmly plastered on the table. 

“Are you okay?” Wesley asks, sitting down. 

“Mhmh,” I say unconvincingly. 

From the corner of my eyes, I can see him looking around, and before I can stop him, he gasps. “Mel,” he says, ducking down to me, “Kirsty is looking over here!”

I slap him on the arm. “I know! Shut up, just shut up.” 

Bethany sits down slowly on my other side. “Hey, guys,” she says, also slowly. 

“Kirsty is making eyes at Mel,” Wesley blurts. 

I groan and put my head down on the table. 

“Seriously?” I know she’s looking over to where Kirsty is. My ears are burning. “You gotta make your move,” she says, nudging me with her foot. I shove her foot away and snuggle deeper into the safety of my own arms. 

“Whatever,” Wesley says. “Edward wasn’t in economics today,” he says, clearly wanting something new to talk about. I lift my head up just a little bit. 

“I can’t believe you’re taking economics,” Bethany says. “And why do you care?” 

He shrugs. “Just seemed interesting. Where do they go, y’know?” 

Bethany puts down her spoon and gets this little smirk on her face. “I have a theory--”

“You always have a theory,” I say, leaning my chin on my folded arms.

“The Cullens are gone  _ a lot  _ right?” she says. “So what if there’s, like, a cult meeting every week or something? Or like, they’re sacrificing somebody?” Wesley leans in, but I roll my eyes. 

“Who or what would they be sacrificing?” I ask. 

“I don’t know, Mel, I’m not freakin’ Buzzfeed Unsolved,” she says. “But don’t you think it’s weird?” 

“I just said that,” Wesley says.

“Well,” I say, “if they were sacrificing people, there would have been some kind of missing persons report.” I immediately regret saying it when Bethany gets this look on her face, like she’s definitely not going to stop until she finds something. I backtrack. “Which I only say because there  _ hasn’t  _ been any in Forks.” 

“How do you know?” she says.

“Hello? My dad?” I say. 

“Okay, just because your dad’s the police chief doesn’t mean you know everything that’s going on,” she says. “Plus everybody knows literally everything is covered up in small towns.” 

I roll my eyes and pick up my sandwich. “It’s not true.” 

When I look back over to Kirsty, she’s talking to her friends.

* * *

“Were Eric and Mike talking to you?” I ask when me and Bella are making dinner that night. Charlie is working until seven (at least, he  _ should _ get off then), and we thought (but didn’t say) that making food together would be a good bonding experience. It’s spaghetti night. 

Bella rolls her eyes and gets this small, almost smirkish smile on her face. “Yeah,” she says. “I think they were trying to flirt.” 

I snort. “They’re such stereotypical teenage boys.”

Bella cuts up an onion as I partly cook the sausage. The recipe book is open to great Aunt Wilhemina’s recipe--it doesn’t seem like Bella particularly needs it, but I thought it would be nice. Aunt Willa isn’t dead, but she left the cookbook with me when she moved to Virginia. I was only six, if I remember correctly, but I always loved her.

“Yeah,” Bella says, then we’re quiet for a while. 

I take the sausage of the heat, place it on a paper towel to soak up some of the grease from it. Bella dumps the onion and pepper she cut up into the pan and stirs it around. I glance at the recipe, scanning but not really reading the measurements. At the end, it says,  _ cook whatever tastes best.  _ I flip it closed and replace it on the highest shelf. 

“Did you know Aunt Willa?” Bella asks after a while. 

“I still visit her,” I say. “So, yeah. Um, that’s where I go when Dad goes to California--or, went I guess.” I tap my fingers against the counter. “She’s really old.” 

Bella smiles, then sighs. “I. Um. I didn’t want to make you feel...I don’t know. Left out or anything, when Charlie would come visit me. I just--” she cuts herself off and pushes around the veggies in the pan. 

“We don’t really know each other,” I say for her. She nods. “It’s cool. I think it would’ve been weird, considering--” I flounder for a minute, trying to find the right words, something that wouldn’t insult Renee. “--everything.” 

She nods again, throws chopped garlic into the pan. I trace my finger across the wood of the counter, the knots where branches once were. I can feel a ridiculous, weird tension rising between us, the feeling of not knowing each other when we should have, the strange empty bond between us, filled only by blood. Loyalty to different parents. Different families, severed by...something. 

“We should put the sauce in,” Bella says, steam curling up from the pan and filling the kitchen with the decadent smell of onion and garlic. I grab the sauce from the pantry, pop the seal, and pour it into the pan. The first few drops sizzle and pop against the hot grease, but it settles as the rest spreads.

It tastes good. Dad is late for dinner, so I make him a plate and put the leftovers in tupperware, tuck them into the fridge. When I’m done doing the dishes, Bella is already in bed. I stand alone in the kitchen, feeling all the woman of the house that I am. It boils in my blood. I know Dad works. I know I’m around the house more than he is. It makes sense. But it seems wrong, and I don’t like it. I need to get a job. 

The lights in the living room are on, the light above the sink is on, the porchlight is on. It’s well passed ten now. The world is getting fuzzy in that way it does when it gets late on week nights. I lean against the sink, and let my mind float. 

A weird shadow moves across the backyard in my peripheral vision and I straighten up, heart pounding. I grab the pan from where it’s sitting in the drying rack, holding it with both hands and sneak to the backdoor. With one flick of my wrist, a dog (named Dog) manifests at my side, distorting the atmosphere around it, but not quite solid. Her hackles are raised. 

The back door squeaks open. It’s sprinkling out. I don’t dare turn on the porchlight, breath shallow, grip the pan tighter. I walk into the yard, muddy and cold. My feet sink into it. Dog is silent next to me. 

A figure is in Bella’s room. I see it clear as day, my stomach twisting, dropping, blood hot. When I breathe, it quivers, spreading out in puffs of steam around me. Dog is coiled. 

On an exhale, I drop the pan, hands shaking. I run back inside, trying to be silent, but my heart won’t stop beating, so hard in my ears that I can’t hear myself move. I grab the phone off the hook, dialing 911 as fast as I can. 

“911, what’s your emergency?” a calm, even voice asks. 

I breathe. “Um, I’m at 184 6th street in Forks. I think there’s somebody in the house.” 

“I’m sending dispatchers your way. Are you safe?” the woman asks. 

“Um, I think so, I saw somebody in my sister’s room, I tried to be quiet, but...I don’t know,” I say, my voice shaking. 

“Is your sister in her room?” she asks. 

“Yes,” I say. “Should I get her? I don’t know what to do.” 

“It’s going to be okay. I’ll stay on the phone with you. Get somewhere safe for you. Is there a bathroom?” she asks.

“Um, I’m going to my dad’s room.” 

“Okay, lock the door. Dispatchers should be there soon. It’s going to be okay,” she says. “Do you know what the figure looked like?” 

I sit down on Dad’s bed and try to remember the shape that made me so afraid--it seemed human, maybe man-like, skinny, tall. “Um, I think it was a man, maybe...I don’t know how tall, but he was tall. I don’t know, it was a shadow, I couldn’t really tell.” 

“That’s fine. Did you hear any noises from your sister’s room?” she asks. 

I try to remember, but all I heard and can hear is my own blood pulsing. “I don’t know,” I say, and my voice is breaking. “I don’t know.” A sob racks my lungs, and all I can imagine is Bella dead. 

When the police show up, they don’t bother knocking. I know it’s Dad the minute I hear the footsteps. There’s a knock on the door. Dog disappears in a wisp.

“Hi, Mel, it’s Officer Gaulding. Can you open the door?” 

“Thank you,” I say to the phone operator, and hang up. I unlock and open the door slowly, peeking my head to confirm that it’s actually her. When I recognize Officer Gaulding’s round, sweet face, I immediately launch myself into her arms. She hugs me for a little bit awkwardly, before Dad comes down the stairs with Bella right behind him. She’s wrapped up in a blanket, face white as a sheet. 

Dad’s fuming. “Mel?” he says. When he sees me, he wraps me in a huge hug, practically crushing me. I try to relax until it’s uncomfortable. 

“Dad,” I whine. 

He lets go, put keeps me by his side. “Are you okay?” he asks. 

“I’m fine,” I say. 

Me, Bella, and Dad sit on the couch, and Officer Gaulding stands in front of the coffee table, thumbs hooked into her belt. “Should we…?” She trails off and looks at Dad for guidance. 

“I don’t know, Gaulding, you’re an officer aren’t you?” he says tersely, then rubs his eyes. “Sorry. Uh, yeah, let’s write some stuff down. You can sit down.” 

She pulls up a chair and takes out a pad of paper, clicks open a pen. “Okay. So, did you see something, Mel?” 

I nod. “Yeah. At least, I thought so. It looked like a person in Bella’s room.” 

“What kind of figure?” she asks. 

“It looked like a man, and he was tall and skinny…” The more I think about it, the more I think I was wrong. It could have been anything--and now I don’t know if Bella’s light was even on. “I don’t know.” 

Bella shifts on the other side of Dad. “I don’t think there was anybody up there.” 

“Did you hear anything?” she asks. 

I try to remember, but Bella says, “No,” before I can say anything. “My windows were locked.” 

“I would’ve heard them if they came through the front,” I say. “God. Now I feel dumb.” 

Charlie pats my knee. “It’s not dumb to call the police when you think somethings wrong. You know this. You did the right thing, even if nobody was there.” 

Officer Gaulding flips the pad closed. “Well, if there weren’t any signs of an intruder and Bella didn’t see anybody...it was probably the light, but if you would make you all feel better, I can get an officer to sit outside for the night.” 

“I know that would make me feel better,” Dad says. 

Officer Gaulding nods. “I’ll send somebody down. Have a good night, Chief.” 

Dad waves half-heartedly. When the door clicks closed, he leans back into the couch. “Are you guys okay?” he asks, calmer now. 

“Yes,” Bella and I say at the same time, but Bella’s significantly more annoyed. 

“Can I go to bed now?” she asks, head leaning on her fist. 

Sighing, Dad gets up. “I’m gonna do one more sweep, then you can go right back to bed.” He stands there looking at us for a little bit longer, then heads upstairs. 

Bella huffs. 

“What?” I ask. 

She doesn’t say anything. 

“What?” I ask again, turning to her.

“Are you so paranoid because you grew up with a cop?” she asks. 

“I’m sorry?” I lean away from her. 

“There was nobody in my room!” she says. 

“I thought you were asleep, Bella, if somebody was in your room, then how the hell were you gonna know? I’d rather be safe than you be dead or like...I don’t know!” I get up from the couch, crossing my arms. “Sorry I woke you up.” 

I barely sleep that night.

* * *

Bella almost crashes on the way to school that day. I jump out of the truck the minute it stops and speed walk into biology. Only Mr. Banner is in the class, looking through lab reports for one of his classes. He looks up and smiles when I enter, then goes right back to grading. I set my bag down and rest my head in the crook of my elbow, dozing off for a few minutes. I’m startled awake when somebody slams the door closed. 

I lift my head up, blinking against the fluorescents that color the room. It’s Edward Cullen. 

“Hi Edward,” Mr. Banner says, setting down his pen. “How are you?” 

Edward stands in front of Mr. Banner’s desk, hands in his pockets, no backpack. “I would like to switch lab partners in AP Bio,” he says. 

“Well, it’s good to see you, too,” Mr. Banner says. “Any particular reason?” 

“No,” he says. 

“Okay, well, I don’t know if that’s possible, it’s a pretty small class and most people are well into their projects. I’m sorry things didn’t get off on a good foot--”

“No, it’s okay. It was optimistic to ask,” he says. 

Mr. Banner opens his mouth like he wants to point something out, then closes it, thinking better of it. “No, not at all. I’ll see, though, Ed. Oh, here’s the homework from yesterday, too. I was gonna send one of your siblings home with it, but didn’t get the chance.” 

Edward grabs it, says a quick thank you, and walks out of the room. I watch him close the door more gently this time. I turn back to Mr. Banner, who looks just as confused as I do. 

“Well,” he says, then shakes his head. “You’re awake!”

“Huh?” I say, closing my mouth. “Oh, yeah. Sorry.” 

He waves me off. “Class hasn’t started yet. You’ve got ten minutes.” He turns on nature sounds, and I lay my head back on the desk, blocking the cool plasticine with my arm, floating in and out of awakeness until class starts. 

Edward, apparently, isn’t in Economics again either, because Wesley and Bethany are back on Cullen Conspiracy Theories again at lunch. My back is to the family in question, and I wonder if they’re listening to this nonsense. I slurp at my reheated soup as Wesley produces his new theory that they’re maple syrup smugglers from Canada trying to keep a low profile. 

“Incredibly pale, don’t eat a lot...probably know some moose…” he says, ticking off each bullet point with a finger. Bethany waves him off. 

“That’s so stupid, man. We all know what’s actually going on. They’re vampires, obviously.” 

I inhale sharply, a piece of noddle going down my throat, and start coughing, a tiny bit of broth escaping my mouth. My throat clears and I chug water, tears in my eyes.  _ They’re bullshitting,  _ I remind myself, heart pounding. 

“Bro,” Bethany says. “You good?” 

I nod, throat still clenched. While I put my water bottle back into my bag, I glance over at the Cullens. Alice is staring directly at me. My hands falter, my whole body turns cold, and the bottle clatters onto the floor. I pack up my lunch and fling my bag over my shoulder. 

“I’m gonna take a walk,” I say, voice high and rough.

“Okay,” Wesley says, drawing the word out in confusion, maybe concern. 

“Are you okay?” Bethany asks, ghosting her hand over my arm.

I nod and make a hasty exit of the lunch room with my head down. Dread is creeping up my body, making every inch of hair stand on end. I don’t go to my locker and I don’t go to my next class. It’s only a two or three miles to get home. My blood is cold in my veins. 

I shove open one of the back doors, a fire exit that has a broken alarm. It only takes me a few steps before I see Alice Cullen across the courtyard from me. I stand still, breath shallow, and she starts moving toward me. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! More of this because I'm kind of stuck on my other WIP. I'm honestly having so much fun writing this, so anybody who's reading, I hope you have a ton of fun reading this. Some little magic in this chapter--it's definitely "easy" in this universe, 'cause there's not really any spells, it's more emotion driven (which for a teenager is a lot)--and a Dog! OoOooOh and a cliff hanger. And more Cullens. If you liked this please leave a comment about literally anything and kudos! I love both! Okay Bye


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